When It's Over
by Random
Summary: Brooklyn is hit hard in the middle of the night. When the bridge is blocked off, Manhattan is left to wonder, 'What happened?' This is a story about love, life and the loss of both. Warning: VERY sad. Get a tissue!


Prologue: I am in a choir class at school. It is an all girls choir, and I guess you probably don't care about that, but we are singing this trio of songs called Three Mountain Ballads. The third song of these three mountain ballads is a song called Barbara Allen. Well, while we sang this song the other day I got a brilliant idea for a story. It was a brilliant idea, not necessarily a brilliant story. Anyway, the words to the song, (which don't follow exactly along with the story, but are close) inspired me to write this story. It will be short, since the song only has five or so lines. But enjoy. The song's lines, before a section of the story, will be in Italics. Enjoy!  
  
STUFF: Ok, first: The Rippers, Blade, and Spit Fire belong to Morning Glory. She's so nice. Thanks Chica! Newsies is owned by Disney. I own Chance and Trip and Random. Comments? E-MAIL Me or make comments and stuff and review! I love reviews. This is my first published piece…so I hope it's ok. And I know I'll get hate mail for killing off people here….  
  
  
  
Quick new stuff: I edited this and rewrote some small words that were hastily typed, so it should be nearly perfect now. Besides, it was due for a repost! LOL. Anyway, nothing new, just grammar checks! Yeah…I just read through it myself…and I started to cry. Grr…I hate stories that I cry over. Oh, but I do want to say a quick thank you to EVERYONE who reviewed this and loved it! That means SOOO much to me! So thank you. ~Random~  
  
  
  
When It's Over  
  
  
  
"Twas in the merry month of May; when all the green buds were swellin'. A young man on his death bed lay for the love of Barbara Allen"  
  
Spit Fire walked through the streets of Manhattan, searching out any information she could find from last night's brawl in Brooklyn. The love of her life lived in Brooklyn and she hadn't heard word about the complete facts of the fight. She walked worriedly and noticed Jack storm by her. She turned and looked at him.  
  
"Jack!" She called out to him, "Any news?"  
  
"No, the Rippah's are still blockin' the bridge. No newsie's allowed in or out of Brooklyn. All I hoird was that the bulls are arrestin' Rippahs' who started it and takin'em to the refuge. No woird on any of the Brooklyn boys."  
  
She nodded as he started to walk away, "Hey Jack?"  
  
He paused and looked at her, "Yeah?"  
  
"Is it really as bad as they think?"  
  
He looked at Spit Fire intently, searching for an answer. He couldn't give her one. Not one that she wanted to hear. He shook his head and started walked off, leaving Spit Fire to worry about everything even more. He took a few steps and turned back to her with hope in his eyes.  
  
"Hey Fire? He'll be fine. He's Brooklyn. Brooklyn can't fall." He half smiled and continued back down the road he was on.  
  
  
  
Back at the LH, she listened to the Manhattan newsboys tell rumors back and forth all in harsh whispers. When she entered a few of them looked at her with sad faces. She wished they'd stop doing that. It was creeping her out. She sat down and stared out the window overhearing the conversations.  
  
"How could somethin' like dis happen?" Blink commented.  
  
"How could ones so strong fall so hard?" Race shook his head, "Thought they were indestructible.  
  
"They were all drunk last night. Nevah knew what hit'em." Snipeshooter smirked.  
  
"They had guns, the Rippahs?" Snoddy whispered, frowning.  
  
"The Rippahs' were outnumbered. The fight lasted all night." Blink nodded.  
  
"Bulls didn't arrive till a few hours aftah the brawl started." Snipeshooter shrugged, "Some got shot."  
  
"Who got shot?"  
  
"They got shot?"  
  
"Are they ok?" Someone yelled out.  
  
"Dead?" A harsh confused whisper came from the group.  
  
"Who's dead?" Blink frowned.  
  
"Dead!" Spit Fire jumped up, with tears in her eyes, "I can't believe you are all just sitting here talking and not doing anything about this!"  
  
Everyone turned to Spit Fire and couldn't think of how to answer. A few gave her sad glances again while others just stared with hopeless looks. Spit Fire was about to comment again when a figure came stumbling into the doorway. She looked at the person in the door and noticed it was Chance. The blonde was a strong fighter from Brooklyn, one of Spot's most respected and admired boys. His blonde hair fell into his face as he leaned against the door. His lip was bleeding, he had a black eye and he looked pretty cut up. His eyes locked with Spit Fire's and he collapsed to his knees. Blink and Race ran over and helped Chance up to his feet, carefully bringing him over to one of the chairs and sitting him down. Much commotion went around the room as questions started flying. Chance looked around completely dazed and smiled a few familiar faces. Spit Fire ran to grab a towel. She came back and pushed her way through the crowd of Manhattan newsies surrounding Chance.  
  
"Move guys. He needs room." She ordered and started to clean him up a bit.  
  
She dabbed the blood from his lips and started to clean the rest of his wounds.  
  
"It's gone." Chance whispered staring off into space, "It's all gone."  
  
Spit Fire frowned, "What's gone?"  
  
"Brooklyn. It's ovah. They's come in shootin' and throwin' hits. Sneak attack, the Rippah's jus' charged in." Chance shook his head looking at everyone; "It's ovah. Everyone was yelling."  
  
"Oh my god Chance." Spit Fire pushed the hair from his eyes, "Take a breath, relax. Calm down please. What happened?"  
  
"We didn't have a chance. They were all sleepin' and most da boys were drunk already. Most of'em ran. They ran and we don't know where dey went. Da Rippah's took ovah our bridge. No newsies allowed outta Brooklyn."  
  
"Yeah, we know, how'd you get here?" Spit Fire dabbed Chance's forehead with the towel, removing some dried blood.  
  
"Ise got ordahs to bring Spit Fire back to Brooklyn wid me."  
  
Spit Fire frowned, "From who?"  
  
Chance looked at her, "Spot."  
  
Blink smirked, "Why ain't he ovah heyah himself? Yous da messenger now?"  
  
Chance shot Blink a look of complete distress and surrender. Blink frowned; thinking about what that look could mean. He looked at Spit Fire who had a similar look of distress in her eyes.  
  
  
  
  
  
"He sent his servant to the town. He sent him to her dwellin'. My master's sick and he calls for you, if you are Barbara Allen."  
  
  
  
Chance stood up, "Let's go." He pushed some of the boys back, "We don't got much time."  
  
Blink grabbed Chance's shoulder; "Hold up. How's everyone doin'? How's Brooklyn holdin' up?"  
  
Chance avoided Blink's gaze and grabbed Spit Fire's arm, "Let's go Fire."  
  
She pulled back, "What's the rush?"  
  
Chance looked at the two of them and sighed. His eyes stung as tears slowly made their way to his blue eyes. He blinked them back and rubbed his eyes.  
  
"What happened to the boys? They ok?" Race asked from behind Blink.  
  
Chance shook his head; "Blade and Trip got shot. They…they didn't make it t'rough the night." He cleared his throat and looked away, "All I remembah from last night is dat I was at the club and when Ise come back everyone was yellin' out. Da Rippah's had attacked and were shootin'. Boys were chargin' at'em ta take the guns…" Chance stopped and looked at Blink straight in the eyes, "Ise snuck in unnoticed and saw a bunch of boys lyin' on da floor. I saw Trip and figured he was ok. Most da boys were dat were on the floor. I crawled ovah to'im to check on'im and…" He swallowed hard, "And…" He couldn't continue and just stared at Blink.  
  
Blink turned away and headed up to the bunkroom. Blink and Trip had become good friends in the past few weeks ever since Spot had been spending more time in Manhattan because of Spit Fire. Chance sighed and turned back to Spit Fire. She had a confused look on her face, while letting all these new facts sink into her head.  
  
"Blade?" She asked.  
  
"Gone. Went aftah the Rippah's leadah…shot in da neck." Chance looked at the floor; "I saw it happen." A shudder ran through him as he looked towards the door, "Ok, Ise leavin' Spit Fire, eithah yous comin' or not."  
  
Chance walked quickly to the door and Spit Fire ran to catch up with him. He walked quickly and quietly all the way back to Brooklyn. They had no resistance over the bridge. The two Rippers they ran into were being carted away by the bulls. The bridge was now open.  
  
"Finally." Spit Fire sighed.  
  
Chance looked at her and tried to smile.  
  
  
  
  
  
"Oh she walked in, oh she walked in and placed her eyes upon him. And all she said when she got there was my true love you're dyin'."  
  
  
  
"He's upstairs." Chance said as he held the door open for Spit Fire.  
  
When they walked in, there were two older gentlemen walking around.  
  
Chance smiled with relief, "Doctors, finally."  
  
Spit Fire headed up the stairs but was caught off guard as one of the doctors pulled her arm back.  
  
"You don't want to go up there miss."  
  
Spit Fire frowned, "Why not?"  
  
"Because…" He paused, "Most of the children up there aren't going to make it."  
  
Her heart sank, "Spot?"  
  
"Mr. Conlon?" The doctor asked, "He has internal bleeding. Unfortunately there is nothing we can do for him. I'm sorry."  
  
Spit Fire shook her head and took a few steps back, escaping the doctors grasp. She ran up the stairs, tears forming in her eyes. Chance looked on and sighed. He knew by the way the doctor acted, that Spot wasn't going to be ok. Brooklyn was falling down around him. He cleared his mind and looked for Random. She was on the first floor when he left an hour ago. She had only been shot in the stomach. Nothing big, she wasn't even bleeding much last time he saw her. 'The doctors must have fixed her up by now' he thought. He continued his search asking a few guys here and there.  
  
"Spot?" Spit Fire whispered as she walked to his room.  
  
She opened the curtain and saw him lying asleep in his bunk. All was still except for the slow rise and fall of his bare chest wrapped with bandages, partially soaked with blood. Spit Fire considered not even wanting to wake him up. He looked too peaceful and happy. She carefully sat at the edge of his bed and took his hand in hers. She kissed it lightly and he opened his eyes.  
  
"I thought yous weren't comin'." He whispered harshly in between slow painful breaths.  
  
Spit Fire couldn't say anything. She just looked at him, trying to think of what to say to him, knowing she might never have another chance to talk to him. A tear slid down her face while she looked at him, and he reached up, wiping it from her face.  
  
"Yous got no reason to cry." Spot smirked.  
  
"Why?" She choked out, "Spot, I…"  
  
"Shh…" He whispered, "Spit Fire, I love yous. And that's all that needs to be said." He winced, and Spit Fire realized it must hurt him to talk, let alone breath at this point.  
  
She shook her head and leaned forward, resting her head on his chest, "Spot. I love you too." Tears began to emerge from her eyes, slowly at first.  
  
Spot caressed her cheek with his hand and squeezed her hand that was holding his, "Shh…please don't cry. It hoits me to see yous cry. Ise sorry to be hoitin' yous like dis love." He took a few labored breathes and sighed, "I nevah meant for dis to happen. They jus…attacked and the next thing I knew before Ise could evan grab me slingshot, Ise face to face wid a gun…"  
  
"Spot." Spit Fire looked up and edged her way closer to him. She kissed his forehead, "Please don't tell me this."  
  
Her eyes were red from crying already. He pulled her closer to him and she rested her head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat. He put his arm around her back as she lay there.  
  
"I'll always love you." He whispered.  
  
She nodded, "I'll always love you too." She closed her eyes and relaxed for a few moments accidentally falling asleep, listening to his breathing and feeling complete in his arms.  
  
  
  
A few hours later, Spit Fire woke up to Chance standing over her shaking her shoulder, "Spit Fire. Let's go."  
  
She looked up at him and frowned, "I'm just going to stay heyah tonight Chance."  
  
Chance's eyes were all red. He had lost Random a few minutes beforehand and was a bit shaken. He pulled her up, "I should get yous back to Manhattan."  
  
She pulled away from Chance and rested her head back on Spot's chest, "I'm stayin' here with Spot."  
  
Chance looked away, "Spit Fire…"  
  
Spit Fire looked at Chance for a moment and then turned back to Spot. He looked like he was asleep still. She shook him a bit, "Spot, wake up."  
  
He didn't reply. She frowned, "Spot…" Her shakes grew more panicked and she placed her head back down on his chest, listening for his breathing or his heartbeat. Some sign that he was still with her.  
  
"Spot!" She cried when silence flooded her ears. Her hands went numb as she sat there with him.  
  
"Spot no." She muttered in between tears, "I…love…you…" She whispered through her tears, "I'll always love you." She buried her face in his chest and cried unselfishly.  
  
Chance pulled her up with some resistance and held her in his arms, "Come on, let's go." He spoke softly, "It's over Fire. It's over." 


End file.
